


Topping From The Bottom

by PBWritesStuff



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Fighting Kink, M/M, Sparring, Surprisingly fluffy ending, Topping from the Bottom, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBWritesStuff/pseuds/PBWritesStuff
Summary: It irritates Eddie to no end, that even when he's the dominant one, Adrian never fails to exert his own manipulative streak.





	Topping From The Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: oral, anal, fistfighting, humiliation, dirty talk, unsafe sexual practices.

There was something appealing to both of them about fighting for dominance, fighting to see who came out the winner and who was the humiliated loser. In the beginning, Adrian lost rather often. Because he was a good fighter, but he was no Comedian. He got better over time though, and Eddie liked that even more, because he wanted the thrill of the hunt, a decent challenge.

And Veidt gave him that challenge.

Bloody lip, black eye. A darkening bruise on one of those fine cheekbones. God above, Eddie thought Veidt looked  _good_ when he looked like a train wreck. Circling round each other with darkened eyes, Adrian threw the next punch, and it struck the Comedian in the jaw, knocking him backwards. Not wanting to lose this opening, Adrian leapt forward, and aimed a nice roundhouse kick to the chest. That kick was caught, and Eddie diverted the kinetic energy behind it to drag Veidt to the floor.

"Is that all you got, princess?" Eddie smirked, looking down at Adrian as he pounced on top of him, and wrapped his hands around the column of the man's throat, squeezing the very life out of him. Adrian knew not to struggle at those strong hands, because the Comedian would always be stronger, physically, than he was. Instead he drove a knee into the junction of Eddie's legs, and relished the howl of pain he got in reply, as he slipped out from under the other man, throwing a kick to his head while he was at it.

"Not even close." Adrian smirked, jumping backwards on feather-light feet before his opponent could get in a counter attack.

"Goddamn, that was  _low_ , Ozy-boy." Eddie cursed, still wincing as he got to his feet, set on revenge. Adrian smirked.

"Since when have  _you_  cared about playing fair?" The younger man replied airily, and dodged the next punch (Dr. Manhattan was the only one who knew  _just_  how little Eddie cared for fair play, and he would take it to the grave). He landed a minor blow on the Comedian, but couldn't dodge or guard for the next punch to his stomach, which had him biting back acid as he side-stepped the next barrage of blows.

"Tired already, Veidt?" Eddie chuckled, as Adrian shook himself off and brought his guard up, dancing closer in an attempt to land a punch.

"I'm more worried about you, Blake." Adrian replied with a smirk. "Given your age, and all."

They traded blows again, a few landing, a few dodged. And then Eddie made a punch to Adrian's jaw, the kind of punch that snapped his head to the side, and he stumbled backwards, leaving ample room for the Comedian to slam him into the wall. Veidt responded with a strangled cry, and he would have sunk to his knees if it weren't for Eddie's grip on the collar of his shirt.

"If I get a concussion, I'm forwarding my hospital bill, you fucker." Adrian finally formed the words, and spat blood onto the floor as his eyes refocused.

"I'm not paying for your stupidity, Veidt." The Comedian rolled his eyes, and pinned both of the man's wrists above his head with only one hand. "You giving up yet?"

"In your  _dreams_ , Blake." Adrian replied, and even though he might be bleeding, and could have an  _actual concussion_ , he wouldn't give up for all the money in the world. He'd bite off his tongue before he gave into Eddie's demands. This was the one place in Veidt's life where pride superseded intelligence.

The Comedian used his free hand to land a swift, crippling punch into his stomach, hard enough that Veidt actually dry-heaved and if he'd eated before the fight, he might have actually vomited. And then Eddie let go of him, released his wrists, and he sank to the ground, gasping. Fighting down the urge to empty his stomach over the floor as it ached from that last point-blank punch.

"I win." Blake chuckled, the punchline of another inside joke, just shared between the two of them. Adrian just slumped over. He had a few minutes, because he'd just heard Eddie light a cigar. He'd given him time to compose himself before they reached the main event, the real reason they fought like this. It's anticipation and relief, fear and predictability, rolled into one,  _and_  the winner got the right to top.

Adrian dragged himself to his knees, cracking his stiff neck and wiping the smeared blood from his face. He glanced up at Eddie, who was watching him with a slightly amused expression as he smoked. Veidt could have felt ashamed, and he did, truthfully, but he didn't show it. He raised a cool, expressionless eyebrow, and Eddie rolled his eyes. He hated it when Adrian got like this, put on that mask of cold indifference.

"Better hurry the fuck up, kid. I ain't waitin' for you to  _prep_." The Comedian growled, and Adrian felt a shiver, against his will. It was the good kind of shiver, the kind that sent his arousal right to his cock. He sat back on his heels, and undid the zipper of his pants, slipping them off of himself with a sigh of relief. He was already painfully erect, and he  _shouldn't_  be, but he was.

His cheeks were burning with something like shame, but he had time still, which was more than he'd given Eddie the last time  _he'd_  come out the victor. And even though this  _was_  a type of penance, he wasn't a total masochist - he liked to give as good as he got, and that was why they both liked this arrangement.

Slipping his briefs down to his knees, Adrian ran two fingers inside his mouth, sucking them carefully as he watched Blake's reaction. Veidt was deliberately teasing him as he lathered them with his tongue, before changing position to slide one at a time within himself, stretching and slickening his tight entrance with silent precision as Eddie nearly choked on his cigar with the bold way he was showing off.

"Goddamn tease..." The Comedian muttered, and Adrian angled just a bit farther, letting the pleasure flood his expression as he found his prostate. "You could at least wait for me."

"I'm not the one who thought he'd have a smoke before we fucked." Veidt cheekily commented, and Eddie knelt then, taking his chin roughly in hand.

"You're  _lucky_  I'm in a good mood, brat." He growled, and Adrian felt the fingerprints on his jawline, the oval shaped bruises that Eddie left everywhere he touched, like a writer with inky fingers, leaving stains over Adrian's soul. God, he loved it.

At that moment, Blake's hand switched to grabbing Adrian's wrist, and he turned it palm-side-up before pressing his half-smoked cigar into the thin wrist, and relishing Veidt's stunned scream as the muscles in his hand twitched, and he pulled away, cradling the injury close to his chest.

"Ah, fuck..." Adrian hissed under his breath. He knew Eddie liked it for that reason. It took so much these days to get Ozymandias to  _scream_ , and burns were nearly the only thing that garnered such a dramatic response from him.

"Don't be such a bitch." The Comedian snarked right back, and Adrian heard the click-tick-tick of a belt being pulled off, and it made the anticipation pool in his belly, more aroused than before, and his erection proved it.

"Now," Eddie purred in a low, husky voice, with his erection out, and level with Adrian's face. "Treat my cock like you treated your pretty fingers, Veidt."

He obliged.

Slipping the Comedian's cock into his mouth, he ran his tongue along the length, licking hard at the swollen head in a way that made Eddie gasp, and card his hands through Adrian's blond hair, grasping, finally, at the back of his head.

"God, only you, Ozy-boy." Blake murmured shuddering. "Only  _you_  would give me a run for my money on the sparring mat and then take my cock down your throat like a slut."

"I thought you didn't believe in God?" Adrian smirked, pulling back with an obscene pop, before running a shameless tongue across the glans in a way that made Eddie shudder.

"I don't." He thrust forward into the warm wetness again, cutting off further conversation with a soft grunt, as Ozymandias focused more on tongue than suction. While his mouth was occupied, he slipped fingers back inside himself to finish the stretching he'd begun earlier. Brushing sensitive nerve endings, he moaned around the other man's cock, wanton and blatant in his obvious desire. 

It shouldn't have turned Eddie on as much as it did, to see Veidt on his knees, and not just tolerating his cock, but  _savoring_  it. Running his tongue along each vein and curve as it strained against his throat and he sucked so well that Blake begrudgingly pulled back on his own accord.

"Jesus, Veidt, keep that up, and I won't be able to  _help_  myself." The Comedian muttered in a low voice that sent Adrian's cock twitching as the pleasure pooled within him.

"Then don't." Adrian chuckled, with quite the cocky smirk for a man on his knees. "I want to watch you come  _undone_."

Leaning forward without warning, he pressed his mouth against Adrian's in a kiss that was all teeth and dominance. Only Eddie could kiss like he wanted to  _devour_  you, and Adrian allowed himself to be pressed against the floor with the bulk of Blake's body against him like a heavy blanket. Strong hands pinned his wrists to the floor, and when one wrapped around the burn, he screamed again, the sound swallowed up by Eddie's mouth against his.

One hand removed to help align himself, and the Comedian pressed in smoothly, burning the shape of his cock into Adrian's nerves as the blonde closed his eyes in obvious bliss.

"Oh yes,  _yes_..." Veidt whispered, wrapping his legs around Blake's lower back to get the angle deeper.

Eddie growled as he set a quick pace and bit down hard into Adrian's shoulder to muffle his own moans and whimpers. Veidt groaned and tears sprung to his eyes, as the pleasure and pain warred within him. Every thrust struck his prostate, but his cuts and bruises rubbed into the hard floor of the sparring room, and Eddie was still gripping his wrists tight enough to hurt.

"Such... Bullshit..." Eddie muttered, and Adrian wanted to ask for clarification, but he was too high to form the words he needed. The questioning grunt must have been good enough, because the Comedian continued. "Even when you're the loser you're still  _winning_ , you motherfucker."

"Try it," Veidt laughed, breathless, as he felt himself teeter over the edge. "You'll like it,"

And then he was screaming again, but this time with  _pleasure_ , as he splattered both of them with his come and plastered every inch of himself to Blake as he came. And then, god, he didn't realize he liked it until he did, but Eddie was  _still going_ , he hadn't come yet, and he was still thrusting deeply into too-sensitive nerves.

"Ah- fuck, Eddie-" Adrian couldn't even form a proper sentence when the other man came, his release the only thing that calmed the fire inside Veidt from the abused prostate and over-stimulated nerves. It was almost too much when Eddie pulled out, and he whimpered, shuddering, but there was none of the expected taunting from the older man at Adrian's weakness. Blake was simply too tired to care, and he wrapped a heavy hand around Adrian with a low sigh.

"Going soft?" Veidt teased, unable to help himself. He knew that now the illusion would break, and he'd be left alone.

"As the loser, you have no say in what I do, princess. For the next half-hour, I  _own_  your ass, so shut up and enjoy it."


End file.
